


Aftermath

by hmweasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Past Character Death, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 14:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16199408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmweasley/pseuds/hmweasley
Summary: On October 30th, Harry realizes that it's been six months since the end of the war. He asks Ron and Hermione to travel with him to Godric's Hollow for Halloween.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts:  
> (setting) Godric's Hollow

It had been nearly six months—half a year—since the war had come to an end. Harry was brushing his teeth the morning of October 30th when that simple fact hit him. He paused with his toothbrush still in his mouth to stare at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. Blinking a few times, he tried to process the passing of time, but he found it impossible. When he thought of the people the world had lost that day, it felt both like they’d been with him just yesterday and like it had been years since he’d last seen their faces.

Eventually, he regained enough control of himself to finish brushing his teeth, but the rest of his time getting ready was spent in a haze. The realization that tomorrow was Halloween, the anniversary of his parents’ deaths, hit him too, and he wasn’t sure how to respond. There was nothing he could do that would make a difference to anyone but himself. Still, he felt like he needed to mark the passage of time somehow.

His thoughts consumed him to the point that he blinked and realized he’d made it to the Burrow’s kitchen table without thinking much of it. He looked around and noticed that Ron and Hermione were the only other people in the room. They had their heads close together as they discussed something in quiet voices and pretended that they hadn’t noticed anything wrong with Harry.

He felt guilty again. He’d been doing much better with not making others tiptoe around him, but sometimes, it still happened, and when he came back to himself, he always felt a little embarrassed, no matter how much others had told him not to.

“Do you think we could visit Godric’s Hollow tomorrow?”

Ron and Hermione’s heads shot up to look at him. He hadn’t been sure he’d ask the question until it was spoken, and he fingered the fork lying beside his plate as his best friends looked between him and each other before Hermione gave a tentative nod of her head.

“Of course,” she said. “We can go anytime you want. Just say when.”

Harry nodded and picked up his fork, taking a bite of his cold scrambled eggs. He tried to ignore the feel of Ron’s and Hermione’s eyes on him.

* * *

They Apparated into Godric’s Hollow at dusk in a cluster of trees not far from Harry’s first home. His eyes were glued to the house as they approached, forcing Ron and Hermione to keep an eye out for possible magical visitors on the night of the anniversary. Harry was tense with the knowledge that someone could appear at anytime. Over the past several months, he’d been told to avoid acting like he’d be attack at any moment, but it was a hard sense of shake.

Ron and Hermione stayed silent as they came to a stop in front of the house. Harry pressed his hand against the fence post and watched with wide eyes as the sign appeared. He hadn’t visited the house since his and Hermione’s trip during the war, and he noticed that new graffitti had been added in the aftermath.

He took the time to read each and every one of the comments, hardly paying attention to his friends standing behind him. He kept remembering the flashes of his parents he’d seen from Voldemort’s own mind, the words he’d heard screamed in his head from the Dementors.

The memories weren’t alarming anymore, and they didn’t prompt any outward response from him. He merely continued to stare at the sign until he’d read each message left to him and his parents. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he blinked them away as he tilted his head up to look at the destroyed house in front of him.

Part of him wished he could do something with it. It was already a monument, and there was something powerful about its destroyed state, but he felt the urge to do more, even if he didn’t know what that more was. Perhaps he’d never figure it out.

They remained there, looking at the house, for so long that Harry lost track of time. Eventually, Hermione placed a gentle hand on his arm, and he let her guide him across the village. It was only then that he realized only a sliver of the sun remained above the horizon.

He watched a group of kids run through the village square and smiled at how carefree they appeared. They’d never know of either dark wizard who had visited their home in the past. The world was far better off because of it.

The graveyard was the same as Harry remembered. Hermione and Ron stayed at the gate as he maneuvered through the graves, remembering exactly where his parents had been laid to rest.

He knelt before them, conquering a bouquet of flowers to lay in front of the tombstone. Much like at the house, he wished he could do more. A quick scourgify removed the dirt that had come to coat the stone, but it still looked worn by time. Harry supposed there was no way to prevent that without the Muggles beginning to think something was amiss.

It reminded Harry of how much time had passed. The tombstone wasn’t that much younger than himself, and it was already showing signs of wear. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so hard on himself because of how difficult things had been since the end of the war.

“Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad.”

He paused as if they would answer him.

“I know coming here doesn’t make much of a difference. If I talked to you at the Burrow, you’d be as likely to hear it as if I did it here. At least, I think you would. I suppose I don’t really know, do I? Anyway, I wanted to come visit since today is...you know. It’s strange. I’ve lived through eighteen Halloweens now, and sixteen of those have been since your death, but this year is different.

“Everything’s different. So many people are gone, and I know it’s not my fault. People always remind me like I don’t know that, but I do. I get that I didn’t kill them. Voldemort would have done it whether I’d been involved or not. But I just hate that it happened, Mum, Dad. I hate that all of it happened.”

He took a deep, shaky breath to steady himself. Running a hand over his eyes, he caught the tears that had begun falling.

“Wherever you are, I hope Sirius and Remus are there. And everyone else. You deserve that, and so do they. That makes it better I guess.”

He looked at their tombstone for a few more moments before he rose and began making his way back to his friends. Hermione rushed forward first, wrapping him in an embrace, and Ron followed soon after.

Harry let himself sob in their arms for a few moments, unsure if he was crying for his parents or the more recent deaths of the war. In the moment, the distinction didn’t matter.


End file.
